


When the World Comes In (Even if Your Hands Are Shaking)

by lookninjas



Category: Glee
Genre: Episode: s04e18 Shooting Star, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-20 00:04:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4765967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookninjas/pseuds/lookninjas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nobody was hurt when the gun went off.  Everyone was hurt when the gun went off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When the World Comes In (Even if Your Hands Are Shaking)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm pretty sure you all saw this fic coming, right? Half of the title comes from "Don't Dream It's Over," half of the title from "Say." The "Shep" mentioned at one point in the story is Fox News anchor Shepherd Smith. Wayne LaPierre is an NRA spokesman. And for those who may not remember her, Andrea Carmichael was Rod Remington's co-anchor until she quit, on-air, at the beginning of "Naked." I apologize if this fic is rough; I apologize also that I didn't have the emotional wherewithal to tackle all the characters that deserved tackling. I did my best to keep my politics out of it but some of them poke through; I'm not apologizing for having politics, but if any part of this lapses into didactific, I apologize for that.
> 
> Please note: This fic does reference real-life figures and real-life events.

 

_**To: Mom, Dad**_

_2 minutes ago 3:37 pm, April 11_

Dont reply to this. Someone fired a gun at school. We are in lockdown. Safe but trying to stay quiet. Please call 911 for us. I love you. Will txt again when over.

 

*

 

Dr. Anderson's hands tremble violently, so much so that he almost drops his phone; his lips part but no sound comes out.

"Dr. Anderson?" Kyrie asks, even if she's already sure she doesn't want to know. This is one of those moments, the kind that you come back to over and over again in your head and think _If only it hadn't happened_ but it already has, and it's too late. A physicist might find comfort in the idea of a universe where this, in fact, had not happened, but Kyrie is not a physicist; her thesis is in algebraic topology. "Dr. Anderson, is everything --"

He pushes his chair back so abruptly that it nearly tips over, rising to his feet. He doesn't look like he's standing on his own power; he looks like a marionette, someone fumbling and awkward jerking on his strings. "I have to go," Dr. Anderson says, but doesn't go, stands and stares at his phone, helpless. "I have to -- I have to call 911, I have to -- My son's school, I have to --"

Kyrie did her undergraduate work at Virginia Tech. She has no idea if Dr. Anderson knows that or not, but it doesn't matter. _She_ knows. She knows it every day.

She stands up, grabs her bag, and pulls her phone out of its pocket. "I'll call," she says. "Just tell me what to say."

 

*

 

_911, what is your emergency?_

 

*

 

Kurt keeps insisting that they can't text Tina, that it's too risky, and he's right and it is but that doesn't stop Rachel from thinking they need to do it anyway because Blaine doesn't know where she is and no one knows where she is and someone has to know where she is because it's Tina and they just -- They just need to know. Now. They need to know now.

Thankfully, after about ten minutes that feel like an hour, she texts them, the chirrupy noise of Kurt's text notifications an odd counterpoint to the strangled sound Kurt makes when he sees who it's from.

"Tina, it's Tina, it's --"

Rachel doesn't point out that she's got her chin hooked over his shoulder and her arms wrapped around his waist and she's not exactly averting her eyes from his phone (and maybe she'll regret that, if Blaine says something -- but he won't; nothing more embarrassing than _I love you so much_ , which he's already sent once, and the way Kurt reacted that first time is what made Rachel wrap herself around him in the first place). "Tell Blaine; Kurt, you have to tell Blaine, he's so --"

"I _can't_ ," Kurt snaps back, still staring, wild-eyed at the phone. "I can't, Rachel, you know that, he never turns off his text notifications in school, if the shooter's near, if he _hears_ \--"

"Well, tell Tina, at least!" And Rachel can hear her voice going the wrong side of shrill, and has to take a deep breath and concentrate on her diaphragm to make it sound halfway normal again. "Look, she's asking you -- she has to be safe if she's asking you --"

_plz tell me blaine txtd you_

"Okay," Kurt says, and lets out a long sigh of a breath, and says, "Okay, okay, okay --"

_Hes in choir rm hes okay worried about u and brittany. U safe? Brittany with u?_

And that's when Rachel realizes who's missing from their little circle.

"Santana," she says, and Kurt glances sideways at her, his thumb missing the send icon on his screen. He makes a frustrated noise and taps it five times in a row. "Kurt, what if she doesn't -- What if she doesn't _know_?"

They blink at each other.

Kurt gets a reply almost instantly.

_shes not here brittanys not here kurt_

"You have to call her," Kurt says, his voice doing that wavering thing it only does when he's fighting his way through a nervous breakdown, except Rachel doesn't fight off nervous breakdowns, the whole point is breaking down, you can't rebuild until _after_ \-- "Rachel, Rachel, are you listening to me? You have to call her; you have to --"

"I can't," Rachel says, letting go of Kurt and backing up against the wall. "Kurt, I can't --"

"She deserves to know, Rachel," Kurt says, his voice cracking. "Even if -- Rachel, you would want to know, too. You know you would. You have to --"

Another chiming notification, and Rachel freezes, staring at Kurt. "Is it --"

"It's nothing," Kurt says, but there's a thickness clogging at his throat, and his eyes are misting over, and he looks like he's half a second from really, really breaking, and the thing is that the only reason Rachel lets herself break down so much is because she knows Kurt is solid and unbroken and right there with her, and if he's going to break, then --

One of them has to be okay.

She's sure it's not her turn, but she doesn't have a choice.

"Okay," she whispers, and opens up her contacts, and scrolls down to the name _Santana_.

 

*

 

"As the Senate prepares to debate tough new gun laws, shots ring out at yet another school, this time in Lima, Ohio --"

 

*

 

Most of the Newtown parents are still inside the Capitol building, pictures in their hands, trying to catch some Senator's eye, trying to change some minds, win some hearts; most of them are there, but there's a few of them outside, working on the broader support. Burt lets the handful of aides pushing him along, chattering about flights and the governor and press conferences hustle him past them and their outstretched photographs, ignores the calls of "Mr. Hummel! Mr. Hummel!"

They'll understand in a day or two.

They'll understand better than he will, and that's going to bother him for a long, long time.

 

*

 

_2 minutes ago 9:14 pm, April 11_

Thank you.

_1 minute ago 9:15 pm, April 11_

**For what?**

_9:16 pm, April 11_

For not saying goodbye to me.

 

*

 

Quinn arrives sometime after ten o'clock, two bottles of chardonnay in her suitcase. By then, Kurt's recovered enough to make a half-hearted snarky comment about how the wine smells like puking on Miss Pillsbury's shoes.

Santana thinks about saying something, maybe about how elves can't hold their liquor, but it sounds pretty weak in her head. She's not bouncing back as fast as he is, and she's not sure why. Maybe it's because he knew sooner, knew more. Maybe it's just because he's used to people almost dying on him. It's hard to make either of those into something that's bitchy and funny and also way too honest for anyone in the room to take, so she just shuts up and drinks.

But then, maybe Kurt's not recovering that well after all, because he shuts up and drinks too.

(She does say something a few hours later, after the wine is gone and midnight is long past and all the boyfriend and lesbian pillows have been pitched to the floor, something about how he's the only guy in the world who could find himself in bed with three hot bitches and not get a boner.

(Rachel, tucked between Kurt and Quinn, asks, sleepily, "You really think I'm a hot bitch?"

(Quinn laughs.

(Kurt just says, "I love you too, Satan.")

 

*

 

**Sebastian Smythe:**

Glad to hear that everyone at [McKinley High](http://thisisafakelink.com) is safe and sound at home tonight.

**Sebastian Smythe:**

And for what it's worth, I actually mean that.

**Tyler Barnes, Wes Leung, and Kurt Hummel like this**

 

 

*

 

"I told Artie I love you," Jake says, and then blinks at the red plastic cup in his hands. "Dude. You totally put rum in this, didn't you?"

"Dude," Puck says. "I totally did not. It's like... endorphins, or whatever. You thought you were gonna die, and then you didn't, and now it's making your brain crazy. It'll chill. You just gotta ride it out."

He sounds sincere enough, but then Puck's really good at sounding sincere. Jake sniffs his cup, but all he smells is Coke.

"Anyway," Puck says, and slings an arm around Jake's shoulders, and Jake doesn't want to lean into it but he does anyway. He blames the rum. "Of course you love me. We're brothers, right? I mean, you love me, I love you, that's how it works, right? Because I do love you. I totally do. And you can tell Artie or whoever you want to tell, because we're brothers, and that's what brothers do. We love each other."

Jake rests his head on Puck's shoulder. It is completely because of the rum. Absolutely, completely, because of the rum. "But there's rum in yours," he says. "Right?"

"Dude." Puck sighs heavily; he rests his cheek on top of Jake's head. "There were SWAT teams running in and out of your school and I thought you were dead and then Tina Cohen-Chang had to stop me from punching a cop. So in my defense, I have had one hell of a shitty day."

Jake considers that for a second, and then he raises his cup. "I'll drink to that," he says.

Puck taps their cups together. They both drink.

"It's vodka," Jake decides. "You put vodka in it."

Puck says absolutely nothing. Jake figures it's because he got caught, but then Puck shifts a little and lets out a soft snore.

"I love you," Jake says again, and this time it has absolutely nothing to do with the vodka.

 

*

 

**Andrea Carmichael (@therealandreacarmichael)**

@rodster69 and the WOHN-TV crew are better at fake news than Stewart and Colbert combined. Loud noises at a public high school? Big deal. No one was hurt; no one's in jail, so why do we care again?

 

*

 

It's a little awkward coming back to McKinley after... well, after everything. If he hadn't flipped out, if he hadn't kissed Emma, if he at least hadn't told (like Rachel said he shouldn't), then -- Then he doesn't know what he would've done, but he would've been there. He should've been there.

"I should've been here," he says, standing in the wings. He can't see anyone on the stage; they've got those weird churchy bleachers set up and he can't see around them, but he can hear the glee kids, _his_ glee kids, singing. "I should've... I just should've."

Burt's hand settles warm and heavy on Finn's shoulder. "Well," he says, his voice a little rough (it's been scratchy ever since his flight got in last night, and Finn's scared he's sick, but his mom promised that Burt would feel better once they'd done this and he figures his mom knows what she's talking about, so.) "You're here now, kiddo. Make the most of it."

So Finn takes a deep breath, and when the song ends, he steps forward into the circle at the center of the bleacher thing, and it's awkward for exactly half a second. Then Marley's clinging to him and Burt has Blaine and Tina wrapped up tight and everyone else is clustering around and Kitty is crying, and it's not awkward at all. Because he's there, and so are they, and it's weird because it's not a happy feeling, exactly. But it's so much relief at the same time that it's almost a weird kind of joy.

 

*

 

"My point, Shep, is this -- we can't just throw the whole idea away because one frightened woman had an accident with her weapon at school. I mean, obviously, you don't want the inexperienced and poorly trained just toting firearms around wherever, and as you know the NRA is all about education, and if this cheerleading coach had only reached out to us ahead of time, then -- But one accident, one time, does not mean it's a bad idea to allow teachers to be armed. It doesn't mean that."

 

*

 

Sue Sylvester adjusts her lapel mic and folds her hands on the newsdesk at WOHN-TV and watches the makeup artist add bronzer to Rod's already pumpkin-colored face and waits, very patiently, for her second act to start.

Wayne LaPierre is going to regret being born by the time she's through with him.

 

 

*

 

**Mike Chang says:**

Where we meeting up?

**Kurt Hummel says:**

My house. There's room and it's close to everything.

**Kurt Hummel says:**

And my dad's freaking out and he wants everyone there.

**Mike Chang says:**

Your dad's not the only one freaking out, dude.

**Miss Mercedes Jones says:**

Amen to that.

 

*

 

On Thursday, four days into his meditation retreat and just when he thought he might be on the cusp of actual levitation, Joe Hart loses all connection to the divine.

It's not something he's ever experienced before, and not something he could truly put into words. He's lost something that he never even really thought of as _having_ , a feeling of warmth and ease and comfort that he thought was just a part of him, but it wasn't. It was God's presence in him. And then, Thursday, and then there's nothing. He's cold. Lost. Adrift.

His spiritual advisor suggests he focus in on his breathing. His spiritual advisor suggests whale song. His spiritual advisor teaches him the rosary and says he should think of it as a kind of mantra. His spiritual advisor suggests, repeatedly, that Joe should tell him who brought a smartphone to meditation camp in the first place.

Saturday morning, the day before he's scheduled to return to the secular world, Joe's spiritual advisor finds him three miles from camp, trying to hitch a ride from Sedona back to Lima, Ohio, and finally suggests he be allowed to return home.

On Sunday afternoon, while his parents lead Bible study around their kitchen table, Joe finds himself at Kurt Hummel's front door, hand raised, afraid to knock. He's not sure what he's afraid of (gunshots, loss of faith, that black hole of despair that he think maybe he could fall into if something happened, if anything happened, and the realization that this time God won't be there to catch him, and --)

He's just afraid.

Then the door flies open and Kitty grabs him by the wrist and drags him inside, saying "Sugar's already here. Honestly, I don't know why you two were in such a hurry to get back, all you missed was about half an hour of pants-wetting terror followed by two days of watching your classmates get humiliated by having the contents of their lockers spilled onto the floor and --"

And Joe turns his hand in her grip, and catches her, and pulls her in, and hugs her, and says "I really missed you insulting me."

Because he did.

And Kitty hugs him back and says, "Good, because I've been behaving myself for way too long and I've got some pent-up hostility just looking for a target."

"Okay," Joe says, and rests his cheek against her hair, and feels the warm light of faith creep slowly into his soul once more.

And he prays: _Thank You, thank You, thank You._


End file.
